Armor Up
by Ilyusha
Summary: AU!Movieverse. Ratchet/Ironhide. The Autobots have left Earth, returning to Cybertron having shared technology with us. But we took it further than they intended us to, creating cyborgs that now fight a war for us and them.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I've forgotten… Even the designs don't belong to me… they belong to moya koordinat… I just make them do naughty things… I'll give them back eventually maybe possibly not…  
Authors Notes: I admit, I've not always been the hugest fan of cyborg or holo!Transformers. Don't get me wrong, there are some fantastically well written ones out there. This however is just me loving the designs drawn by moyakoordinat and wanting to make them do rude things to one another. What can I say, I'm a pervert and semi-proud of it. But of course, there had to be a plot somewhere… my brain just won't let me write them getting it on… And I know it's not strictly Transformers, but it's close...  
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.

* * *

It has been many years since the Autobots left Earth to return to Cybertron, intent on restoring their home planet to its once former glory. In the time they were here, they helped us; shared their technology with us, enabling us to become better, stronger and more resilient to diseases which had killed us in the past. As time went on, we incorporated their technology with our own and created what should never have been created; a hybrid of metal and organic. Humans fused with Autobot technology. 

There weren't many to begin with. With only five Autobots to 'borrow' technology from, the results were limited. But promising. So promising that more teams were set up. More humanAutobot hybrids were created, technology fused with organic tissue that simply made them better.

That was our downfall.

Now they fight a war for us.

We weren't to know there was another group doing exactly the same, only with Decepticon technology. We weren't to know that they would declare themselves and their creations supreme and kill anyone who stood in their way.

We weren't to know.

But we still had to cope with the consequences.

And the consequences were more far reaching than we could imagine. After all our experiments and all our testing, we still couldn't work out the reason behind it. Over time, the more the armor we created from the Autobots was worn, the more the personality of the original Autobot was leached into our creations.  
They know they aren't the Autobots, yet it doesn't stop them referring to each other by their Autobot names. They took on the names of the Autobot whose armor they wear. They became mercenaries, fighting our war against those created from the Decepticons.

A war neither could win.

Yet they kept fighting…


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I've forgotten… Even the designs don't belong to me… they belong to moyakoordinat… I just make them do naughty things… I'll give them back eventually maybe possibly not…  
Authors Notes: I admit, I've not always been the hugest fan of cyborg or holo!Transformers. Don't get me wrong, there are some fantastically well written ones out there. This however is just me loving the designs drawn by moya koordinat and wanting to make them do rude things to one another. What can I say, I'm a pervert and semi-proud of it. But of course, there had to be a plot somewhere… my brain just won't let me write them getting it on… And I know it's not strictly Transformers, but it's close...  
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.

* * *

The call came over the internal communication channel to report to the control room. Ryan heaved a sigh and put down the report he'd been reading, wondering what the summons could be about. He stepped out of his office into the corridor, walking quickly, his 'boots' resounding on the temporary floor. 

There were five of them on this base, including him. All 'cyborgs' as the terminology went. All infused with Autobot technology; the only visible part of which was their non-removable headgear. The audio sensors and 'ears' with an integral retractable visor were all that could be seen. At least until all the armor was worn; then how 'robotic' they were really showed. Their armor connected through millions of sensors to the headgear in such a way it made Ryan's brain hurt to think about it too long. But he had to think about it. He was the team's medic; their Ratchet. His armor had been reverse-engineered from the Autobot medic Ratchet back in the golden days, back before the war. But for day to day activities, they tended to limit the armor they wore, most just preferring to wear the boots instead of the whole suit.

Cybernetic implants were all the rage now – they protected the body against the diseases common in the world. Yet the implants were not without risk. Ryan dared not think how many had died in the experimental stages before the technique was perfected. But now the technique had been perfected and they stood and fought for those they loved. There was no choice but to fight realistically. Since the first cyborg had shown signs of 'Autobot traits' as it was termed, they had been shunned. They were still expected to fight and fight they did; it was their world too.

But there were few of them left now; scattered groups amongst the true-human armies. The cybernetic implants and the armor stopped most injuries, but not all. They could still die. The governments of the world had stopped any more cyborgs being created, meaning they were the last of their kind; fighting not only a war so they could live in peace, but a war so that some of them might continue to survive.

Slipping into place between the others, they stood to attention, waiting for their commands. Their Prime stood in front of them, their leader; wearing armor derived from the Autobot leader Optimus Prime. He paced restlessly before turning to them.

"We move out at dawn. They're too close to our position. We draw them away and double back before getting the Pit out of here." Everyone nodded, knowing exactly what tasks were required of them. With the headgear also came the ability to communicate with the others non-vocally, over a communication channel. Much like the old-fashioned walkie-talkies except it was a simple thought that initiated the contact. A few questions were asked and answers were given before they made their way out to start their respective assignments.

"Hey Ratchet, wait up." Ryan turned to see their weapons specialist stalking up the corridor behind him, his heavy boots echoing loudly.

"Ironhide."

"Just wanted to walk with you." He replied to the unasked question, in a tone that was anything but innocent.

"And here I was thinking you'd want to be walking behind me." Ryan wasn't quite sure why he said that. In truth, there were things he said when Ironhide was near that he couldn't quite believe he'd actually uttered. It was as though something had severed his brain-mouth connection. While it was true he found their weapons specialist rather attractive, in a rugged sort of way, he hadn't had the nerve to do anything about it, not wanting to upset the delicate balance within the team.

In many ways, he wasn't sure whether he was happier just adoring from afar, yet there were times, even in the heat of battle, where Ironhide's hand on his shoulder made his heart skip a beat and his internal temperature jump several degrees. Sometimes he cursed being endowed with the medic's armor, as it made everything that little bit more sensitive. Yet other times he craved wearing the armor, as Ironhide accidentally brushed against him while they were working together. Innocent moves that were anything but.

"I like your arse, I admit it, but I'd rather be closer to you than watching you from afar." Ryan missed a step, barely catching himself, shivering as he felt Ironhide's hands steadying him.  
"Hank?" Everything in Ryan's tone was questioning; emotion clear even in the single word. The pronunciation of Ironhide's true name, something that they'd all given up long ago instead referring to one another by their Autobot designations, gave a more serious tone to the conversation.

"You know when you do something but you have no idea why you're doing it?"

"Um…?"

"Well, whenever I'm near you, I just have this… need… to be even closer, to touch you and hold you." Hank paused and quirked a smile at Ryan. "I know it's corny, but it's the truth. Swear to Primus." Warnings flashed through Ryan's eyes, reminding him that though he had cybernetic enhancements, he still needed to breathe. When he did manage to catch his breath and speak, his voice was very shaky.

"I thought it was just me…" He trailed off, tilting his head to look up at Ironhide who just shook his head.

"No such luck."

"What now?"

"Fragged if I know."

"Helpful as always."

"You know me, I try my best." Ryan rolled his eyes.

"Nothing we can do at the moment anyway. We've got more important things to do." Ironhide's eyes lit up, the blue of the cybernetic enhancements shining through clearly. "And I'm not patching you up again." He added as he watched Ironhide. Out of all of the team, except maybe Jazz, Ironhide was the one who spent the most time in Ratchet's medical bay.

"Hey doc, that's not fair. I don't have that many scars." Ryan reflected on Ironhide's statement. Technically it was true; the weapons specialist didn't have that many scars, thanks to the implants that accelerated the healing processes. But the scars he did have, Ryan knew he could catalogue without having to think. He dreamt about those scars; wanted to trace each and every one with his fingers and tongue.

"Doc?" Ironhide's voice brought him abruptly out of his thoughts.

"Sorry."

"We're gonna have to figure something out. I don't want to have to put up with this now you know."

"I understand. It's just…"  
"I don't give a flying frag what the rest of the team think. I know what I want…" Here Ironhide paused and leant in closer to Ryan's audios. "And what I want is you." Ryan actually checked the readouts for his audios, just to make sure he'd hear Ironhide correctly. He opened his mouth to make some kind of retort but was silenced by Ironhide tenderly placing a finger across them.

"No words. Not yet. We get the slag outta here, set up somewhere else, then we talk." Ryan just blinked, gasping as Ironhide replaced his finger with his lips, chastely pressing against Ryan's lips before standing back up and walking away. Ryan was left standing in the corridor, feeling rather weak yet elated.

/\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\

Which was how Bumblebee found him moments later. Ryan had enough time to school his features into something looking less like a dazed schoolgirl and more like the battle-hardened medic he was.

"'Bee." He greeted the young scout as he got closer.

"You okay Ratchet?"

"Fine." Steeling himself to not ask why 'Bee was asking, Ryan tried to steer the conversation away from himself. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I was wondering if you needed any help with the medical stuff before I leave?"

"That would be appreciated, thank you." Ryan couldn't see the point in asking where 'Bee would be going, as he knew the scout wouldn't tell him. He was the youngest member of the group by several years, still looking very much like an innocent teenager. Ryan had however seen him in action and knew him to be anything but.

They walked in silence to the medical bay, nothing needing to be said. When you lived with people for so long, there were only so many conversations you could have. Besides, much of their previous lives, before they underwent their cybernetic enhancements was classified, even if they remembered it, they weren't allowed to say. Busying himself packing boxes with the more sensitive equipment he only trusted himself to handle, Ryan allowed his thoughts to wander. The realisation that Ironhide felt something too had been something of a revelation. He had hardly dared believe what he had heard. He could still feel the tingle that had passed through him as their lips met.

"Stop it." He muttered to himself.

"Huh?"

"Sorry 'Bee. Just talking to myself."

"First sign of madness that." 'Bee winked at him. Ryan just glared, staring at him until the younger scout carried on packing the contents of the supply cupboard into boxes.

A hesitant query in his mind forced his attention away from Bumblebee. A simple thought command allowed the query through. Somehow he wasn't surprised to find it was Ironhide. It was a wordless check that he was all right. Ryan sent back confirmation that he was. He could feel the pause on Ironhide's end, before a voice command echoed through his audios and through the base.

"Incoming! Armor up!" Ryan hated the sound of that term. If there was anything he hated more than the war, it was having to fight alongside the warriors, keeping one eye on his surroundings whilst trying to patch up one of his team. It wasn't that he was a coward; it was just that, as a medic, he had trained to save lives and being forced to take them was something he didn't think he could ever get used to.

Ryan sighed and stopped packing, nodding once to Bumblebee as the siren blared. The base was small, designed so that if there ever was an attack, it was easy to get to their armor and easy to rebuild should the worst happen. He could hear the buzz of excitement across the open channel as they prepared for the attack. Orders and information were passed along as he and Bumblebee made their way down to the armory.

As he pulled the armor on, Ryan felt the tell-tale tingle as it connected itself to his neural network. Armor on and locked in place, he collected his weapon and they assembled outside the base.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I've forgotten… Even the designs don't belong to me… they belong to **moya koordinat**… and I might give them back eventually… maybe… possibly… not…  
Authors Notes: And we finally get somewhere… much prodding was required to get them to this situation… amazing how stubborn certain medics can be!  
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.

* * *

The battle was mercifully short, each side realising they couldn't win and pulling out before the injuries became life threatening. At this stage in the war it was more politics and threats than it was actual violence. That wasn't to say that the violence didn't happen. Ratchet could vouch whole-heartedly that wasn't the case. It was he who had to pick up the pieces and repair his team-mates. Thankfully, none of the injuries were serious and most could wait until they had relocated. The cybernetic implants were already starting to work on the lesser injuries, knitting together damaged skin and reducing bruising.

"That ain't gonna happen often." Jazz muttered, leaning slightly on Bumblebee's shoulder. Ryan performed a quick scan of his injuries, eyes flaring bright blue briefly before he was satisfied that Jazz needed no immediate treatment.

"You're telling me. The sooner we move further away from them the better."

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\

The actual move itself didn't take long. What took the time was arranging the new base to their specifications. Ryan had lost count of the times he'd started rearranging his medical bay only to have to stop and pack it all back up again because they needed to bug out again. Over time he had learnt his lesson; only unpacking what he required initially. The medical bay was the second area to be set up, the command center being deemed more important.

Ryan leant against the counter and surveyed the small room. No matter how many times it was rebuilt, nothing seemed to change. He could point out every dent and scrape on the walls, including the mark on the ceiling courtesy of Jazz. Every blemish had its own history and Ryan knew it all. The boxes were piled up in the corner of the room, carefully stacked by himself as the others brought them in from the jeeps.

With a sigh, he resigned himself to reorganising his room. He'd already dealt with the minor injuries incurred during the battle; going as far as tracking down Prime to tend to him otherwise their leader would have just soldiered on regardless. The only one he hadn't seen was Ironhide and he was torn between worrying why and being thankful.

As if he could hear himself being thought about, Ironhide peered round the doorway.

"Is it safe?"

"That was one time! Once! Will you never let me forget it?" Ryan glared at Ironhide, knowing exactly what he was referring to. It had been an incident early on in the life of the team; during a quiet time in the war. Bumblebee and Jazz had gotten bored and decided to start pranking everyone. Well, Ratchet mainly; the thought of pulling any sort of prank on Prime was unthinkable and Ironhide would have ripped them limb from limb if they dared try again. Although, seeing Ironhide run through the base covered from head to toe in pink feathers had been amusing, Ryan hadn't thought the same when they pulled the same prank on him. It resulted in Ryan throwing several medical instruments at the retreating pranksters. He had missed, but the tradition of checking it was safe before entering the medical bay had been established soon after.

"Nope." Ironhide flashed him a cheeky smile before stepping into the medical bay.

"Get yourself on that table." Ryan pointed to a hastily set up table so that he could check Ironhide's injuries. Knowing it was easier to comply, Ironhide heaved himself up on the table, waiting for the medic to draw near.

It seemed to take forever for Ratchet to cross the room and stand next to Ironhide, testing reflexes and running scans to determine the extent of the injuries. As he finished his checks, Ryan suddenly realised how close he was to Ironhide and blushed, before standing back. He didn't, however, get very far as Ironhide's hand closed around his wrist.

"Ratchet…" Ironhide's voice was quiet, an edge of worry tingeing the word.

"I…" Ryan trailed off, not exactly sure what he was going to say. Why was he suddenly so nervous around Ironhide?

"You've not changed your mind?" Ironhide whispered, hand tightening imperceptibly around Ryan's wrist. All Ryan could do was shake his head, his throat suddenly constricted.

"I said we'd talk once we'd set up base." He continued. Ryan nodded, wetting his lips nervously, waiting to hear what Ironhide would say next. Gently, Ironhide pulled on Ratchet's wrist, drawing him closer.

"I meant what I said. I want you." Ryan opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he couldn't find the words. Deciding abruptly that actions spoke louder than words he closed the small distance between them and kissed Ironhide. He let out a surprised gasp as Ironhide pulled him closer, kissing him back.

The kiss was everything that Ryan wasn't expecting; warm and tender with just a hint of underlying passion that made him moan disappointedly as they parted for air. They didn't move far apart, Ironhide resting his forehead against Ryan's, breathing heavily. Abruptly, he sat up, raising a hand to trace down Ratchet's cheek. Ryan tried hard not to lean into the gentle touch that was so unlike the brash Ironhide he knew. He closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh as Ironhide drew his thumb across his lips.

"You know I felt something the first time I met you?" He whispered, not bothering to open his eyes, all of his senses concentrated on the fingertips tracing his jawline, skirting carefully around the cybernetic implants that curved from under his jaw up his cheeks. His hands rested on Ironhide's thighs, the warmth of the skin under the trousers seeping through and setting the sensors in his fingertips alight. Ironhide's only reply was a soft hum as he tilted Ratchet's head up towards his, leaning down for another kiss, this one more sure and full of promise.


End file.
